


but until then I'll be with you through the dark

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blind Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Prison, Ramsay is his own warning, Rescue Missions, Robb Stark is a Gift, but the victim isn't anyone we'd miss so, in which robb doesn't do morally acceptable things, someone dies you can guess who, this is the weirdest mix of fusion i could come up with tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I don’t think that I made myself clear,” Robb says, his tone rising exponentially.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You made yourself perfectly clear,” Tywin Lannister answers, “and the answer is no.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Robb doesn’t insult him only because of all the effort it took him to get to talk with the King's Landing chief of police.</i>
</p>
<p> <i>“No, I think you didn’t. My partner was forcibly taken from our hotel room when I was not there, even if the directive says that whoever turned blind may stay free if they don’t leave the house and if someone with functioning eyesight is with them. It takes twelve hours to catch that illness, from what we know, and he’s had it for a week. I’m not going to get sick from it. We aren’t even from here and now you tell me that he’s in a maximum security prison when he’s done exactly nothing?”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	but until then I'll be with you through the dark

**Author's Note:**

> So, a while ago tumblr user sansastark asked for a dystopian au for a writing meme. Something possessed me to think that merging together Blindness and Escape From New York was a good idea. I don't even know, but it happened..? /o\ anyway, the title is from Gaslight Anthem and I only own the mix and match.
> 
> Also, warnings: for anyone who hasn't read Blindness or seen the film, the premise is that everyone in a not specified nation turns blind except one person (I made it less absolute but still xD), blind people get all thrown together in an abandoned mental hospital and horrid shit happens because people are left to their basic instincts. In this case it just means Ramsay doing what he does in canon without anyone to care about it, but anyway thhe basics are those ones even if this is fairly less terrible than the original source in that sense.

He should have run.

Thing is, that’s easy to say  _now._  But when all you see is  _white_ , a huge mass of white that makes you feel like you’re swimming in a pool full of condensed milk, staying in the house seemed like a good idea.

He couldn’t have known that the government would try and put a stop to the fucking  _blindness epidemic_  by grabbing all the sick people they could find and cram them in one single prison as if they were wanted criminals.

Well,  _along_  with wanted criminals, too.

_Robb didn’t get it,_  Theon repeats to himself as he tries not to vomit at the stench filling up the room. He thinks it’s fifteen of them in it, and he’s pretty sure it was made for a lot less than.  _He’ll know where to look_ , Theon tells himself.  _I just have to hang on in here for a while_. 

–-

“I don’t think that I made it clear,” Robb says, his tone rising exponentially.

“You made that  _perfectly_  clear,” Tywin Lannister answers, “and the answer is no.”

Robb doesn’t insult him only because of all the effort it took him to get to talk with King Landing’s chief of police.

“No, I think you didn’t. My partner was forcibly taken from our hotel room when I was not there, even if the directive says that whoever became blind may stay free if they don’t leave the house and if someone with functioning eyesight is with them. It takes twelve hours to catch it, from what we know, and he’s had it for a week. I’m not going to get sick. We aren’t even from here and  _now_  you tell me that he’s in a maximum security prison when he’s done exactly  _nothing_?” 

“I will give you that it most probably was a mistake,” Lannister agrees. “But that changes nothing. I will  _not_  let you go in there unsupervised, or you won’t get out of there alive.” 

“I doubt  _he_  would, either.”

“That’s not our concern, Mr. Stark. We have to stop this in every possible way.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Robb almost shouts, standing up and leaving the room. He slams the door on his way out.

He’s trying to come up with a plan B when someone grabs his arm.

“What the hell do you want?” It’s Jaime, Lannister’s eldest son and vice – as if. Everyone knows that it’s a hereditary job around here.

“I want to help you,” he sighs. “Go to my office.”

Robb follows him and Lannister sends him a weary look before opening a drawer and rummaging through it.

“So. Did you say that your  _partner_  is at the Dreadfort?”

“He is,” Robb confirms.

“Well, this is not your lucky day.” He takes a bunch of papers and a box out of the drawer and then he sits down on the desk before writing something down on a blank one.

“All right,” he says when he’s done. “Do you have a gun?”

“No.” 

“Are you even fucking  _real_?” He opens another drawer, then motions for Robb to come closer to his desk.

 “All right. Your funeral, kid. Anyway. This piece of paper here, take it and then go down to the evidence department. Give them to the woman at the desk – tall, blonde, bloody ugly face, pretty blue eyes. She’ll scowl for a bit but then she’s gonna give you a loaded gun or two, and you’re going to take it. This other one is a permit – you know that the Dreadfort is on a small island. This is gonna give you a passage there, if everyone supposed to man the boats isn’t blind by now. They’ll come back for you twenty-four hours later, so you’ve got a day to find your bloody boyfriend. If you find him, good. If not,  _leave_ , because no one’s going to search for you. And when you’re there, pay attention, because the moment they realize that not only you’re not an inmate but you’re also not blind, you’re gonna have it bad. And unless what comes back is your corpse, I want that gun back in evidence in the next two days. Clear?”

“Clear,” Robb says, not looking at a gift horse in the mouth. “But – why?”

“I thought the quarantining was bullshit and I don’t believe in half of my dad’s methods, but I can’t exactly tell him. And now just fucking leave." 

Robb gives him a dumbfounded nod and leaves, papers clutched in his hands.

-–

Theon thinks it’s been two days. They’ve been brought crappy food and some water four times, so he supposes that it’s been two days – how would he know when he can only swap white for dark when he closes his eyes? If he ever thought that he had a nightmare, he hadn’t known.  _This_  is a nightmare.

Then the guy next to him reaches for his arm – blindly, or so it seems.

“Haven’t you heard?” He asks, his voice sounding panicked.

“What?” 

“You know where we are, right?”

“That, I fucking do. So what?” 

“They said – they said Ramsay Bolton broke out of solitary confinement?”

“He did  _what_?” Everyone knows who Bolton is – crazy psycho who used to kidnap women, hunt them with his dogs and torture them in various imaginative ways before killing them.

“That’s the word – someone from the police must have seen.”

Right. Because this prison has been left to inmates for ages, but the most dangerous are kept locked up by other inmates, and the police only sees what happens through cameras connected to their small offices on the mainland.

“Well – didn’t they send all of us here also because all the inmates were blind?”

“Word is that he didn’t catch it.”

Theon’s blood goes cold at once.  _I need to escape_ , he thinks, but then again how the fuck would he? He needs someone with eyes, and no one in here will ever admit to it, if they’re faking it.

He can only hope that Robb finds a decent loophole and gets him out – Theon swears that he’ll stop teasing him for all the pro bono cases he takes when he doesn’t have time for the ones he’s actually getting paid for, if he does.

–-

“Mister, I really don’t think that it’s a good idea,” the guard tells Robb when he walks into their office.

“I don’t care. I have a permit and you’re going to bring me there.”

 “You  _are_  aware that Bolton escaped confinement?”

“ _Ramsay_  Bolton?

“Yep. And he's not blind. When you get there, that entire island is gonna be him knifing blind people open, and he’ll go for the civilians since there’s plenty of them in there. He’s probably gonna have fucking minions to help him. And  _you_  want to go there with that pretty face and  _one_  gun? If you do, you’re completely insane.” 

“I can see,” Robb replies.

“So fucking can I, and it means jack shit.”

“What’s your name?” Robb asks.

“Bronn. So?”

“Right.  _Bronn_ , I’m not going to leave the person I need to get out in  _there_  when that psycho is on the loose if I have a chance to get him out. So, if you’re so sure that I’m doing this wrong, then tell me how should I and bring me the fuck there. Are we clear?”

“Christ, what are you, some kind of activist?”

“Lawyer.”

“… even worse. All right, get over here.”

He brings Robb to what looks like an evidence room and goes through a few drawers before throwing him what looks like a prison uniform.

“You want to get out of there alive, your only hope is passing for one of ‘em in case someone who can fucking see is still there. Get out of your stupid jeans and put that on.”

Robb puts it on – it’s dark red and fits him pretty decently.

“Better. Hide that gun on your back under the jacket.”

Robb does, and then Bronn hands him two Swiss knives and a switchblade one.

“Hide that one in your boot and the other two wherever you’d find them easier. Considering that I don’t think that you  _can_  shoot, you’ll run out of bullets pretty fucking fast.”

Robb does, again without questioning. Nothing Bronn has said until now sounds stupid, and actually, he should have thought about both things.

“Okay,” Bronn says, “looking better. Now, just one thing.”

He takes a step forward and then he punches Robb in the face hard enough that Robb actually screams.

“What the fuck?”

“And good for you that you didn’t shave,” Bronn replies amiably. “You gotta be an inmate, then you have to  _look_  like one.”

Which is… an entirely good point, Robb has to admit.

“Do I look like one?”

“Fair enough. You could do better, though.”

“Go then,” Robb says, and when Bronn punches him again in the same place, he doesn’t complain.

He looks at himself in the mirror – he has a split bottom lip and his cheek looks purple, but no one would take him for – for what he really is.

“I’m gonna come back for you a day from now,” Bronn tells him as they head for the small motor boat parked on the shore. The Dreadfort is maybe ten minutes from here, a small stretch of sea between it and them, and no way for inmates to escape if not swimming. “Don’t try to swim – the water is kept cold artificially and if you do, you’re gonna freeze to death before you’re halfway there. If you have time to spare then hide and  _wait_. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Robb answers, trying not to force himself to touch the switchblade’s handle pressed against his ankle.

–-

He hears screams in the distance and shudders.

“Anyone knows what’s that about?” He hates opening his mouth, because this room stinks and he only tries to breathe through his nose, but curiosity is getting the better of him.

“There’s a wood on the other side of the island. Beyond the prison. I read it on the newspaper,” a woman that has to be on the other side of the room says. “If enough people are there and screaming, we might hear it.”

The person who brought them to eat said that Bolton had been  _visiting_ the floor above theirs.

“I’m not letting myself get caught,” he says a moment later.

“And what are you going to do?” That was the man next to him. “You can’t  _see_. You’re just gonna gain attention faster, idiot.”

It’s probably a sound argument. But he can’t keep on staying here anymore, waiting on charity for his next meal and breathing urine stench.

And Robb is somewhere outside.

“I’m going to take my fucking chances.”

It doesn’t start too well. He has to walk slowly, almost trips into ten different pairs of feet before his hands find the wall and then the door.

It’s open.

Theon takes a deep breath, prays that he remembers enough of that hand to hand combat training classes he took once when he was fourteen and had enough of his brothers, and walks out of the door. 

–-

“Are you new?”

The guard on the outside is  _huge_ , but doesn’t look too menacing. He  _could_  – half of his face is a huge burn scar – but he mostly looks bored.

Robb prays that he can’t see behind the dark glasses he’s wearing. This one obviously isn’t blind.

“I’m new,” he agrees. “Cop said he’d give me an uniform to make sure I actually put it on.”

“I can see why. What did you do?”

“I robbed a bank,” Robb lies.

“Huh. Boring. Well then, go inside. You should be somewhere on the first floor – there’s a couple of us who still can fucking see, whoever’s at the first gate will bring you there. Have a fucking great time.”

Robb walks slowly in a straight line, putting out his hand and grabbing the wall when he gets to the main gate. There’s no one there, though. He keeps on walking and goes through two gates before he finds himself in a deserted hallway, except for an inmate sitting on the ground.

This one’s blind, though.

There’s no one around.

He grabs one of the Swiss knives, gets the blade out and kneels next to the man, grabbing him from behind and putting the blade against his neck – he hopes his hand is not going to start to shake  _now_.

“Shut your mouth,” he hisses. “Don’t scream. I don’t want to kill you, but I need you to answer some questions. Clear?”

The man nods once, cold sweat breaking all over his face.

“Fine. Where are the civilians?”

“S – second to last floor. I think. That’s what they said, anyway. We weren’t s’pposed to meddle with ‘em anyway." 

_Shit_ , Robb thinks. This fortress has at least fucking fifteen floors, and it’s the hugest prison in the entire nation.

“Is Bolton out and about?”

“Dunno. They said he comes every day to choose people to bring to the woods behind the prison, but that’s it. And I don’t know if he has others with him.”

“Fair enough.”

Robb knocks him on the head with the butt of the gun and when he faints, he leaves quickly.

His fingers are shaking – for fuck’s sake, months ago he used to go to marches against military involvement in Essos and now look at where he is.

Still. He’s not going to leave Theon to rot here when  _he_ ’d know that he’s always been left behind by pretty much everyone else in his life.

He puts the knife back in place and tries to figure out how the fuck you would get to some kind of stairs.

–-

Theon should have known that it was a bad idea. Everything is silent except for the occasional sneer of the inmates supposed to watch them. He has to walk with his hands against the wall and he’s pretty sure that he’s not doing this stealthily. Until now he’s gone through one hallway and he found himself on what seemed like a staircase – he opted for going down, since if he wants to get  _out_  then it won’t be by going to the upper floor.

There seems to be no one there. He can hear his steps on the stairs, though, too well, and that’s why he stops dead in his tracks when he realizes that someone else is walking up the stairs from the bottom.

All right. He needs to keep his wits to himself. He stops, flattening his back against the wall, and trying to guess how far can the new person be. Not too much, from what it seems. The steps come closer, and closer, and then they stop when they should be this close to him.

“And what are  _you_  doing –” the man starts – fucking idiot. Now Theon’s heard him and he knows where he is – mere inches on his right. He reaches out, glad that he finds the man’s shoulder at the first try, and then he brings his knee upwards, hoping that it hits the groin – from the way the guy shouts, it does. He moves from shoulder to head, pushes it against the wall hoping that it was just strong enough to knock out, and runs down the stairs.

At some point he doesn’t feel like he's walking on stairs anymore – he got to the floor, apparently, but he needs to find the place where they start again, and maybe he’s just better off walking straight, when suddenly a hand seizes his arm and someone punches him in the face hard enough to hurt.

“But look at you,” the voice says. “Hey, boss! This one ran off from the upper floor and even knocked Ryman out – not bad, huh?”

“He kind of reeks, but that’s indeed impressive,” another voice agrees, and  _shit_  but the tone makes Theon’s blood run cold. “How lovely, though. He’s blind, right?”

“Looks like it.”

“Excellent. Put him with the others. Maybe he can be a real challenge.”

_No_ , Theon thinks,  _no, fuck, I should have stayed back,_ but there’s nothing he can do about it as he’s dragged towards his left and thrown against other people. The person he smashes into is shaking with fear.

_Robb,_  he thinks,  _I’m sorry._

Because there’s no way he’s getting out of this alive. 

–-

When Robb sees a plan for emergency exits, he almost cries in relief – two hours spent walking around the lower  _empty_  floor have been a waste of time and an experience he so does  _not_  want to repeat. He takes a good look at it – apparently he’s somewhere near the library. Nothing that’s going to help.

But – oh,  _yes_. If he goes straight through this hallway and then turns left, there should be a door leading to a fire escape staircase that goes all the way to the top. It’s gonna take him ages to get to the second to last floor considering how high it is, but he should be out of anyone’s sight and when he gets there – well, it can’t take too long to look at the cells, right?

He takes out his gun and runs through the hallway, then turns left.

The door is there, but it’s locked, and clearly no one who looks like could have a key is around.

Well, shit.

He had hoped not to waste a bullet and not to attract attention, but there’s no other way. He aims the gun at the lock and shoots – the door is open a moment later.

He goes outside and starts walking up the stairs. He takes the time to notice that he’s on the back of the prison – he can see a wood stretching in front of him. He’s at the third floor, catching his breath, when the gates open.

He immediately sits down, pressing himself against the side of the ledge, and looks down. A man walks out of the back gate – he has black long hair and is wearing a prison uniform, and while Robb is decently high by now, he’s also not high enough not to recognize Ramsay Bolton from the pictures he saw in the newspapers. He’s obviously not blind either as he orders a number of other inmates to  _bring the poor bastards out_ , and some fifteen people who obviously are civilians are brought out and pushed in the open.

And –

Oh,  _shit_.

Theon is at the back of the crowd – Robb can’t see his face, but he can recognize his old leather jacket that he was wearing when he disappeared, and he’d recognize his back anywhere.

He’s tempted to jump off the ledge and run, but no. No, that’d be a colossally bad idea, especially since both Bolton and his minions are there in the same place.

He has to get down the stairs, run after them in the woods and hope that he reaches Theon first.

_Damn it_ , he thinks, and then he throws away his sunglasses – they’re not going to help, and there’s no one with red hair in the bunch of people they’re bringing towards the wood, so there’s no way he can pass for one of them. He waits until they disappeared inside the clearing, and then he runs back down the staircase.

He has five bullets when he’s never learned to shoot in his entire life and three knives that he’s not sure he can use properly, either. Or well, one of his pro bono clients once showed him how to use a switchblade knife without killing himself in the process – hopefully it’s going to be enough.

–-

_Fucking great_ , Theon thinks. He’s been left against a tree with a warning that he has five minutes to start running, and where the fuck would he go if he doesn’t even see anything? If he stays put, though, it’s going to end horribly, and he knows that. They walked for what seemed like a long while before he was left on his own, so it’s not like he can hope to run back to the prison, not that he’d ever find it. He touches the trunk of the tree – it’s a small one, and if he reaches up he can’t feel any branches.

He starts walking, slow, reaching out to see if at least he’s still near trees or not, and for a short while he’s left alone.

This until he hears a bullet flying not far from his shoulder.

_Fuck_. If they have long-range firearms it might mean nothing, but he doesn’t  _know_  that, does he?

And then his hand touches a trunk that looks huge. And old. With plenty of wood to hold on to.

He does the only thing he can think of and starts climbing, hoping against hope that there’s a branch not too far ahead. He tries to remember the times when he used to do this with his sister – it’s the only thing he could ever beat her at, and damn but if only he could  _see_  –

He breathes out in relief when his hand touches a fairly big branch – he climbs on it and stays against the trunk, hoping that the leaves hide him,  _if_  there are any. He’s touched some, but he has no clue if they’re enough.

He doesn’t know how long he spends trying to breathe as shallowly as possible when he hears someone whistling coming his way.

Ramsay Bolton. Shit.

“Weren’t you the one that reeked?” That voice is seriously creepy, especially when you have no face to attach it to.

“Seems like you’re smarter than most of the others, though all things considered it wouldn’t be much. But you never learned to cover your tracks, did you?”

_Fuck. He knows where I am. Of course he would, there’s fucking mud on the ground since it was raining yesterday_.

“I can see you, you know. That branch is not going to save you.”

_Yeah, right, talk a bit louder, won’t you?_   Either he’s ridiculously sure of himself or he’s more stupid than it seemed, Theon thinks, but it doesn’t change that he’s dangerous and that if he wants a chance to save his life he can’t stay here. Snow is obviously at his right. So he turns left, hopes that there’s nothing to slow his fall and that he’s not too high after all, and jumps.

It wasn’t too high and he thankfully lands on his own feet, and then he hears three gun shots fired somewhere not too near but not far either.

He hopes that there are no trees in his way and he runs.

There are no trees in his way indeed, but he’s not wearing decent shoes and he can’t run as fast as he’d like, not in a muddy ground, and before he knows, he’s thrown to the ground, his face down in the mud, someone straddling him from the back.

Shit, the psycho is fucking turned on.

“You were better than most,” he says a moment later. “Pity that it wasn’t enough. You can cheer up now, since you were this satisfying, I won’t kill you like a pig  _now_.”

That’d be better, Theon thinks, and he closes his eyes on reflex even if it changes nothing.

_I’m just sorry I won’t ever get to see Robb again_ , he thinks as he braces himself for whatever is to come.

But then he hears what sounds like someone opening a switchblade knife –  _what_? – and the body straddling him falls to the side. Or better, it's shoved to the side.

“You couldn’t have just stayed put, could you?”

–-

Robb had been cursing himself for wasting all his bullets, but on his way he had run into five of the people that had been with Bolton and all of them could see, and one of them had been tearing the clothes off a blind young girl and he couldn’t just ignore it and go on.

So he had been clutching the switchblade knife in his hand when he had heard Bolton speaking out loud.

He had figured that he’d go after him if only because if he wasn’t around in the first place everyone else would have been safe, but he hadn’t imagined to see Theon jumping from a tree he was hiding in and trying to run.

It couldn’t have worked, but Robb had followed silently, trying not to draw attention to himself, and  _clearly_  Bolton had started talking again.

Idiot, Robb had thought as he came closer – never waste your time talking, especially when people might not be able to see you but they can fucking  _hear_  you.

So maybe putting the knife in the man's back from behind wasn’t the most honorable way to do this, but Robb can’t afford honor right now, and he surely couldn’t afford to inform ttheir resident psychopath that speaking out loud had been a very bad idea.

Theon turns on his side, looking slightly thinner and a lot dirtier and still as if he can’t see anything, but Robb feels like crying in relief since other than that he looks all right.

“You couldn’t have just stayed put, could you?” he asks, and then Theon’s hands reach blindly forward – Robb wraps his arms around him at once, crushing him to his chest.

“Robb?” He asks, but he  _knows_  that it’s him – he wouldn’t be grasping back just as hard if he didn’t. 

“Who else? I was going to get you at the right floor, you know.”

“What – but what are you doing here? How –”

“Legally, they wouldn’t let me. I asked Lannister to make me come here officially and refused. So – I came unofficially.”

“Wait – did you –”

“We can do this later,” Robb cuts him. “I have a ride back, but it’s… in eighteen hours. We need to hide.”

“I don’t –”

“Not in the prison. Come on, follow me. I'm still not blind, you know.”

Theon links his arm through Robb’s and does.

\-- 

Robb tells him where they’re going at any given time, and that’s how Theon knows that they ended up in a cave somewhere deeper in the woods – it’s pretty small and not noticeable, and there’s a stream passing through it.

“No point in going where we’re supposed to. It’s half an hour from here and everyone would see us in the first place,” Robb explains as he rips a piece of Theon’s old shirt and obviously tries to wash it. Theon can hear the sounds.

“Okay,” he agrees, letting himself lean against the cave’s wall. “Shit. I was trying to get out on my own – bad idea, huh?”

“Totally, but I should have known that you’d have done that,” Robb replies fondly before bringing the piece of cloth to his face and wiping away what Theon supposes is a lot of dirt.

“Fuck, I must be disgusting.”

“Not your fault, for that matter,” Robb replies curtly before putting his arms around his waist again and laying down – Theon leans his head against his shoulder and breathes in. He hadn’t thought that he’d ever have  _this_  again.

“Christ, did you seriously come here on your own with a fucking gun and a knife when the only time you punched someone in junior high because they were mean to your brother you felt bad about it for weeks?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you here, idiot,” Robb replies, tugging him closer, his hands running over his back. Theon can’t see him at all, but when he reaches out with his hand and traces the lines on Robb’s face they’re as familiar as ever, and he doesn’t mention it when he touches what are definitely tear tracks.

And – that kind of makes his heart clench, because no one he knows would have ever done this –  _maybe_  his sister, but not this way. Surely not his father or anyone else in his family.

“Get some sleep,” Robb tells him, “it’s obvious that you haven’t had much and we have time before having to leave.” Then he kisses his filthy hair, and this won’t be the first and last time Theon feels like he drew his only lucky card when he met Robb Stark.

–-

“We’re close,” Robb whispers, his fingers clasped around Theon’s as he leads him to the place where Bronn left him the day before. He can see the boat in the distance – good – and he’s almost allowing himself to breathe out in relief when he sees the man with the scarred face not far from them, still in front of the prison’s gate.

_Damn_ , he thinks, tightening his grip, but then the man’s expression goes from indescribable to amused. He gives Robb a nod, looking almost impressed at the same time, before he turns his back on them and walks back into the prison.

Bronn lands not long after and lets out a whistle when he sees the two of them.

“Well, I wouldn’t have bet a dime on you actually pulling it off. Get the hell in before everyone but Clegane sees us,” he says as Robb gently leads Theon into the boat before climbing in.

“Clegane? The guy with the scarred face?”

“He’s with us – he just pretends to be an inmate to keep an eye on them. Well, congratulations, kid,” he says as he starts the boat and they finally leave. 

When he has his back turned on them, Robb presses his mouth to Theon’s for a moment, shortly but firmly, and when Theon reaches out with his free hand and runs his fingers along his nose and mouth and jawline, Robb lets him, kissing the tips whenever they reach his mouth.

The first thing he’s doing after they take ten showers and go back to Winterfell is pressing charges, but that’ll be for later – right now, he just grips Theon’s hand tighter and doesn’t regret any of his actions at all.

 

End.


End file.
